


isn't this why we came

by merricats_sugarbowl



Series: girls like girls like boys do [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Clarke Griffin, Clarke and Lexa have bad dating histories, F/F, First Dates, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Lexa doesn't know how to date, One Shot, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 10:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5412845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merricats_sugarbowl/pseuds/merricats_sugarbowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Tonight is Lexa’s first date with Clarke, and instead of trying to find the perfect outfit or hairstyle, she’s Googling tricks for faking appendicitis.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>The onslaught of nerves this morning was unexpected. It’s not like Lexa’s never gone on a date before; she’s in her twenties and she’s had girlfriends before, plural. She’s had sex with girls who were her girlfriends and girls who were strangers. She’s had hook-ups, she’s had drunken kisses on nights out, she’s had feelings for girls who were right for her and girls who weren’t.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>But this is different.</i>
</p>
<p>Lexa and Clarke go on their first date and attempt to get to know each other. Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5287733">this</a>, though it's not entirely necessary to have read that first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	isn't this why we came

**Author's Note:**

> For those of who you wanted a sequel, here you go! I just love the idea of Lexa being nervous and not knowing how to date since it's been so long. Title taken from Hayley Kioko's "Girls Like Girls", which is also the name I'm giving to this series (is two one shots a series??? Idk, maybe I'll add more). Anyway, hope you enjoy!
> 
> I'm over [here](http://spasmodictricksofradiance.tumblr.com) on Tumblr, come say hi! :)

Tonight is Lexa’s first date with Clarke, and instead of trying to find the perfect outfit or hairstyle, she’s Googling tricks for faking appendicitis.

The onslaught of nerves this morning was unexpected. It’s not like Lexa’s never gone on a date before; she’s in her twenties and she’s had girlfriends before, plural. She’s had sex with girls who were her girlfriends and girls who were strangers. She’s had hook-ups, she’s had drunken kisses on nights out, she’s had feelings for girls who were right for her and girls who weren’t.

But this is different.

This is the first time she’s really gone out since Costia died, and even though it’s been years, Lexa can’t help but feel guilty at the thought of going out with someone who isn’t _her_.

When she approaches Anya an hour or so before she’s due to leave, her advice is less than helpful.

“Get over it,” she says. At Lexa’s wounded look, she shrugs. “Sorry, Lexa, but it’s been three years since Costia died. You can’t wallow in self-pity forever. I thought you liked this Clarke girl?”

“I do.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“It still feels like I’m cheating on her.”

“She’s dead.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Lexa says, growing irritated. “I never said that it made sense, but that’s how I feel. I thought you’d be supportive.”

“I _am_ being supportive,” Anya says. “Whether you can see that or not. I’m supportive of you getting out there and getting your life back on track. Jesus, Lexa, you’ve spent the last three years moping around and thinking about the past. Costia wouldn’t want that for you. She’d want you to be living a good life.”

“You don’t know what she’d want,” Lexa mutters. “You never liked her.”

Anya sighs. “No, I didn’t, and maybe I won’t like Clarke, either. But I know I’m right about this. Don’t cancel on her. You’ll only end up beating yourself up about it later.”

She leaves for work, and it’s only when she’s gone that Lexa grudgingly admits to herself that Anya’s probably right. She stops researching symptoms of appendicitis and starts digging through her closet instead.

That presents a new dilemma. It’s been so long since she went on a date that all of her “date” attire is either too small or has memories interwoven with the fabric—there’s the black dress that she wore on her first date with Costia. The cream lace skirt she wore to meet Costia’s parents. The green woollen sweater and ripped jeans that she was wearing when she got the phone call to tell her that Costia was dead.

All of it makes Lexa’s stomach turn, and she’s reaching for her iPad to go back to WebMD when her phone buzzes to indicate a text. It’s from Anya, a reminder that Lexa’s more than welcome to raid her closet if she wants to.

Not for the first time, Lexa marvels at how Anya always seems to know what she’s thinking.

Anya’s taller than her, but Lexa manages to find a sweater that looks like it will fit her. It’s charcoal grey, tight and soft, made of some sort of expensive fabric that slides beneath Lexa’s fingers like butter. She doesn’t even want to know how much it cost—three figure and even four figure price tags don’t make Anya blink an eye, with her cushy sales job, but Lexa’s still a student. She doesn’t want to know if her borrowed sweater is worth a car payment or two.

She digs out a pair of tight jeans to go with the sweater and an old leather jacket, and then it’s almost time to go. She takes the time to braid her hair—it might seem like a strange hairstyle choice for a first date, but braids have always been a way for Lexa to unwind. It’s weird how the simple act of twisting her hair together can make her feel more in control of a situation, but it does.

As long as it works, she’s not going to complain. And this is a situation that she could certainly use some control over.

With her braids in place, she smudges some eyeliner around her eyes and then leaves the apartment before she can change her mind.

She’s meeting Clarke at a coffee shop near the nightclub where they first met, and as she walks through the darkening streets, she tries to persuade herself that there’s no need to be nervous.

Clarke, she reminds herself, is great. She’s nice, she’s funny, and she’s certainly no slouch in the looks department. Lexa already knows that she’s a good kisser.

There’s no reason for her to be nervous, but there’s still a fluttering in her stomach when she arrives at the coffee shop and spots a familiar blonde sitting in a booth by the window.

As Lexa draws close, she realises that Clarke isn’t alone, and she pauses for a moment to wonder if she’s gotten her wires crossed. Maybe this isn’t a date; maybe she’s been getting all worked up over nothing, and all this has ever been is a casual hang out session.

The thought that she’s gotten things wrong makes her cheeks flare red, and she’s considering turning on her heel and walking out of the shop when Clarke looks up and spots her.

“Lexa!” she calls, waving her over, and now there’s nothing that Lexa can do but join her.

“Hi,” she says, pausing at the edge of the booth and debating which seat to take. Clarke’s friend decides for her when she jumps to her feet and slides out of the booth, insisting that Lexa take the seat opposite Clarke.

“I’m only here for a minute,” the girl assures her, and Lexa suddenly recognises her as one of the girls who was with Clarke at the nightclub. Not the one who was throwing up; the other one, the pretty brunette who spent the entire night flirting with the bartender. “I’m meeting my brother to see a movie, but I told Clarke I’d wait here with her till you showed up. She was afraid you wouldn’t come.”

“Octavia,” Clarke says warningly, but it’s oddly comforting to Lexa that she’s not the only one who was anxious about tonight.

“I’m Octavia,” the girl says needlessly. “And you’re Lexa, I know, nice to meet you. Clarke hasn’t shut up about you since that night—”

“ _Octavia_.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Lexa says, somewhat taken aback by Octavia’s rapid-fire chatter and the smirk that turns up her lips when Clarke reprimands her.

“Octavia, I think Bellamy’s here,” Clarke says, and Octavia grins.

“Then that’s my cue to leave you two lovebirds alone. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

And then she slides out of the booth, bounding over to a tall, dark-haired guy with a smattering of freckles visible even from this distance. Alone now, Clarke and Lexa look at one another for a moment before Lexa averts her eyes, a blush warming her cheeks.

“Sorry about her,” Clarke says, sounding embarrassed. “She just loves to watch me squirm. I wasn’t really afraid you’d stand me up, by the way. I mean, I was, but not because of you.”

“Why, then?” Lexa asks, unable to quell her curiosity. Clarke gives a little shrug.

“You know about my history with Finn. I know that the situation isn’t even remotely similar, but that whole thing just left me a little nervous about the whole dating thing.”

Before she can help herself, Lexa says, “I almost didn’t come.”

Clarke’s face falls. “What?”

“Not because of you,” Lexa hurries to explain. “Oh, God, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I wanted to see _you_. It’s just—Costia.”

Understanding crosses Clarke’s features. “Your girlfriend.”

“Yeah,” Lexa says, nodding. “I think I told you the other night that I haven’t really dated since she died. It’s always felt weird. I felt that again today and I just kept thinking that I shouldn’t come, that it was too disrespectful to her, stupid stuff like that. My roommate knocked some sense into me. I can’t be in a relationship with a dead girl. And Costia would want me to be happy, anyway.”

“I’m glad you came.”

“Me too,” Lexa says, earning a smile from Clarke.

“Alright,” Clarke says, reaching for her purse. “What are you having? First one’s on me.”

Lexa orders her usual, a white chocolate mocha, and then fidgets with the sleeve of her borrowed sweater while Clarke gets the drinks. This is it, then; this is dating someone who isn’t Costia. It feels strange, but not bad. They’ve gotten over the awkward part now, she thinks, and surely what comes next is better.

If it wasn’t, then why would anyone bother dating at all?

Clarke returns and hands Lexa a cup, wrinkling her nose. “I can’t believe you like white chocolate,” she says. “I’m seriously questioning my taste in women right now.”

“What’s wrong with white chocolate?” Lexa asks, amused.

“It’s not chocolate, that’s what. It’s false advertisement.”

“So, you don’t like white chocolate,” Lexa says, cupping her hands around her mocha and leaning forward in her seat a little. “What else don’t I know about you?”

Clarke thinks for a minute. “My last name. It’s Griffin, by the way.”

“Woods,” Lexa offers in return.

“Lexa Woods. I like it. How old are you, Lexa Woods?”

“Twenty-two. What about you, Clarke Griffin?”

“Twenty,” Clarke says, and Lexa raises her eyebrows.

“I met you in a nightclub.”

“I have a great fake I.D.,” Clarke says breezily. “So do you work? Are you a student?”

“A student. I’m graduating this year, actually. I’m majoring in English and psychology.”

“Impressive. I’m pre-med. I’ve just started second year and I’ve managed not to flunk out yet. But _yet_ is the operative word here.”

This is the pattern that they follow for the next hour or so—Clarke shoots Lexa a question and she responds, and that’s how they get to know each other. By the time they’ve finished their coffee, Lexa knows that Clarke’s dad died when she was sixteen and that she still hasn’t quite gotten over it. She finds out that Clarke’s mother is a doctor, and the person who inspired Clarke to study medicine in the first place. She learns that Clarke values her friends more than almost anything else in the world, and that she’s loyal to a fault.

She also learns that that’s not enough—she wants to know more about Clarke. She wants to know everything.

They order more drinks, Lexa’s treat this time, and when Lexa returns to their booth they start in on the dangerous topic of exes. It’s not the first time that they’ve discussed this—it was how they introduced themselves in the nightclub, but this is different. That was a hurried explanation, forced out over vodka and the threat of Clarke’s ex-boyfriend lingering over them; this is comfortable. It feels like something they want to share with each other.

They treat it as a game—Clarke calls it First, Worst, Most Serious, and graciously offers to begin.

“My first boyfriend was Wells,” she says, “but I don’t even think you could call him that. We were best friends when we were kids, so when we got to the age where everybody started getting into relationships, we figured it made sense for us to get together. I don’t even know if he liked me—I don’t think I liked him, anyway. We dated for a couple of weeks and then decided that we were better off as friends.”

“Cute,” Lexa remarks, picturing a younger, baby-faced Clarke trying to make a relationship with her best friend work so that she could fit in with her peers. “My first was a boy too, actually. His name was Easton. We were eight. We got married by the slide at recess and had a very happy marriage for about a month, until he told me he wanted a divorce because he had a crush on our teacher. I was heartbroken. In fact, I think that’s what turned me off guys forever.” She grins when Clarke rolls her eyes. “Okay, your turn. Worst?”

Clarke’s face falters a little. “I think that’s obvious,” she says wryly. “Finn. I met him a few weeks into freshman year at a party in my dorm. He seemed like such a nice guy at the time, you know? He was just so friendly and always there when I needed him. I wasn’t looking for a relationship or anything like that, but we became friends, and I started spending so much time with him, and you know how things just get blurred after a while?” Lexa nods silently. “Yeah. It was like that. The lines got blurred. We started sleeping together, but we didn’t put any labels on it. He didn’t suggest it and I didn’t think I had to, because I knew he wasn’t having sex with anyone else. Then Raven transferred to our school and I found out that they’d been together for two years, before Finn even met me.”

She pauses.

“Are you okay?” Lexa asks. “We don’t have to keep playing, if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’m fine,” Clarke says, shaking her head. “Anyway. Long story short, the week Raven arrived, Finn came clean. He said all this shit about how he didn’t think that she’d get into our school and that long distance relationships never work out. But I told him that none of that mattered, since he’d lied to me. Funny thing is, me and Raven ended up becoming best friends when the dust settled. We realised that just because he was a dick to us didn’t mean that we had to treat each other like shit. So, it was my worst relationship, but I got something out of it, at least.” She raises her cup to her lips, swallowing back a mouthful of dark roast. “So, what about you? What’s your worst?”

“Oh, that’s easy. Anya.”

Clarke’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. “Your roommate Anya?”

“Yeah,” Lexa says, grinning a little at the memory. It seems ridiculous now. “It was a few years ago, we were still in high school. We were both lonely and horny and we decided that we could solve both of our problems if we started sleeping together. It turns out that I’m not so good at the casual sex thing, though, and neither of us thought of the other as anything more than a friend. So we had about a week of being friends with benefits before I called it quits, and we’ve been just friends ever since.” She shrugs. “Not as interesting or dramatic as _your_ worst, but hands down the worst failure of a relationship, or an attempt at one, that I’ve ever been involved in.”

Clarke nods. “Okay, then. Most serious. My answer for this one is probably Finn, but I’d prefer to say undetermined. There’s going to be something serious. Something good, that wipes out that asshole’s placeholder.”

_I’m counting on it_ , Lexa thinks, but she doesn’t say the words aloud.

“Costia,” she says instead, “but you already knew that. I won’t go into the whole thing—we were together for a long time, I don’t think I could tell the whole story in one sitting—but I’ll give you the highlights. I met her in senior year of high school. We were both taking a class in feminist literature at the community college in our town and we ended up hanging out because we were the only high schoolers in the class. We went on a few dates, decided we wanted to be together, and then that was that.” She frowns. “We were together for two years before she died. So that’s that. My most serious relationship.”

Clarke reaches across the table, her fingers closing warmly around Lexa’s. “I’m sorry,” she says softly. “This was a dumb game.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Lexa says. “It wasn’t dumb. We know more about each other now. Isn’t that the whole point of a first date?”

“I didn’t mean to upset you, though.”

“I’m not upset.”

“You don’t have to lie, Lexa.”

“I’m _not_ ,” Lexa insists. “Look, Costia’s always going to be a hard thing for me to talk about, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t talk about her. Especially not with someone that I want to be with.”

Clarke’s hand tightens around hers reflexively. “So you want to be with me,” she says, a grin tugging at her lips, though she does her best to hide it. Lexa gives a little shrug.

“Tonight’s been fun,” she says simply. “A lot more fun than I thought it would be when I was Googling symptoms of appendicitis. Yeah, I’d like to see you again.”

_I’d like to kiss you again, too_ , she thinks, but she keeps that part to herself.

“I’d like that too,” Clarke says, and Lexa’s heart stutters just a little. “ _But_ ,” Clarke adds, squeezing Lexa’s hand again, “tonight’s not over yet. Do you want to get another coffee to go? We could take a walk.”

Lexa’s certainly not about to pass up the chance to go on a moonlit stroll with a funny, interesting, downright gorgeous girl, so she smiles and nods when Clarke asks if she’ll have another white chocolate mocha.

It’s chilly when they get outside, a sign of the fast-approaching winter, and Lexa’s grateful for the warm cup in her hand. She’s more grateful for the presence of Clarke by her side, especially when Clarke reaches out to twine their free hands together, fingers wrapping around Lexa’s like they were made to fit with one another.

They head in the direction of the park, though neither of them suggest it; it just seems like the right way to go. While they walk, they talk some more, though they revert to a lighter topic after the heavy ex discussion in the coffee shop.

Celebrity crushes is the subject of choice, and Lexa has to try not to laugh when Clarke reveals a hidden fondness for Hilary Duff. She doesn’t do a very good job; her chuckles earn her a light punch in the arm from Clarke.

“Hey, Lizzie McGuire was a classic,” she says. “That show made me realise that I was attracted to girls!”

“Then I’m eternally indebted to it,” Lexa deadpans, ducking when Clarke aims for her arm again.

They’ve reached the park now, and as they walk along the winding trails, Lexa learns more about Clarke.

She finds out that her favourite food is chocolate cake.

She likes to draw and paint, but she never seems to find the time.

Her relationship with her mother is good, more or less, but there’s some tension between them because Clarke doesn’t always get along with her mother’s new boyfriend.

She didn’t have pets growing up, but she’s always wanted to own a dog.

She takes her coffee black, but her alcohol with tons of sugar—she’s a fan of cocktails, flavoured vodkas, wine coolers and spirits mixed with inordinate amounts of soda.

Lexa learns all of these things and more, but when the time comes for her to part ways with Clarke, she still doesn’t think that it’s enough.

She asks where Clarke lives, partly to have another piece of information to file away, partly because she wants to know if she can offer to walk her home without going too far out of her way and seeming desperate. It turns out that Clarke lives in a dorm, but tonight she’s staying with Octavia and Raven—who, Lexa is happy to discover, live just a few blocks away from the apartment that she shares with Anya.

“So how come you don’t live with your friends?” Lexa asks as they start to make their way to Octavia and Raven’s apartment. Clarke shrugs.

“I like my own space. I can’t afford a place of my own right now and the dorms are part of my tuition, so I figured I should take advantage of that for another year. I stay with Octavia and Raven when I want to go out, though. It’s a lot easier. Plus my dates can walk me home,” she adds with a knowing grin.

Lexa hopes that her blush isn’t visible in the darkness.

It doesn’t take long to reach Octavia and Raven’s building, and when they do, Lexa finds herself at a loss. Should she kiss Clarke goodnight, or would it be presumptuous? Should she ask when she can see her again, or would that seem too needy?

It’s been so long since she dated, she doesn’t remember what the rules of etiquette are.

“It’s silly, isn’t it?” Clarke says, interrupting her train of thought. Lexa blinks.

“What’s silly?”

“This,” Clarke says, gesturing at the air between them. “I mean, here we are, both of us trying to decide if it’s okay to kiss each other goodnight, when it’s not like we haven’t already done that. Because we have. Kissed, I mean.”

“Right,” Lexa says.

“And we said that we’d do it again,” Clarke reminds her. “So really, I don’t know why we’re even bothering to think about it. We should just do it.”

“Right,” Lexa repeats, but she doesn’t move. Eventually, Clarke shakes her head and steps in close, reaching out to tilt Lexa’s chin up with her finger.

She kisses Lexa like she’s asking for permission, and it takes Lexa a moment to kiss her back, silently telling her _yes, this is okay_. Lexa feels Clarke’s lips curve into a grin and then her arms are looping around Lexa’s neck, pulling her in closer so that she can deepen the kiss. Lexa responds as best she can, but she’s still trying to wrap her head around the situation.

It’s silly, like Clarke said. It’s not like this is their first kiss. But the last time, Lexa was drunk, and now she’s very, _very_ sober. She’s aware of every brush of Clarke’s skin on hers, of every little press of lips and sound of pleasure.

She likes it.

When Clarke finally stops kissing her, she doesn’t pull away—she rests her forehead on Lexa’s for a moment, closing her eyes like she’s trying to compose herself, and then she steps back, her arms falling from around Lexa’s neck. Lexa feels the loss acutely, wanting nothing more than to draw Clarke back into her embrace and kiss her again.

But maybe not tonight, she thinks. Maybe it’s better if they take things slowly.

“It’s better without the alcohol, isn’t it?” Clarke says, sounding a little unsteady.

Lexa wonders if it’s because of the kiss.

“Definitely,” she says.

“So,” Clarke says after a moment.

“So,” Lexa agrees.

“I had a good time tonight.”

“Me too.”

“So we can do it again, then?” Clarke says, watching her face carefully. “I mean, would that be okay? I know that dating isn’t easy for you—”

Lexa kisses her again, not wanting her to finish that sentence. “Yes,” she says when she pulls away. “I’d love to do this again. Anytime you’re free, just call me.”

Clarke’s grin is blinding. “I will. Goodnight, Lexa Woods.”

She lets herself into the building before Lexa can respond. Lexa watches the door swing shut, waiting until Clarke’s disappeared up the stairs before muttering a reply to the closed door.

“Goodnight, Clarke Griffin.”

It’s a farewell, but as she turns to make her way home, it feels more like a new beginning.


End file.
